SLICE OF LIFE | SURVIVAL HORROR
I’m not sure why I’m writing this down.
I guess its that I just know that I need to write something to make sense of it. My therapist calls it written stress management. I’ve admittedly never really taken it seriously, so, I guess that would be the first benefit to everyone losing their fucking minds only a few months out from the end of the school year.
My name is Rosemary Fitzgerald. Everyone calls me Fitz. I’m a senior at Stockbridge Academy, a sort-of charter high school a few hours from Detroit. Not that any of that matters anymore.
Something happened. An outbreak of some kind, or at least that's what the teachers told everyone. They told us that we'd be safe in the auditorium until the situation was clear and our parents could evacuate us. Obviously, that was a lie and well, whatever sickness that was outside decided that it did not want to be outside anymore. All, I remember was sitting in the gym, holed up with the rest of my class and a few others, waiting this out until one of the other students, a freshman I think, caught whatever sickness was going around. Now, I’m not much of an expert of these things but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to get back up when a fourteen-year-old decides they liked the taste of your neck.
I never liked Mr. Roberts, but that should not happen to anybody.
In retrospect, sure, I’m shaking, but I’m starting to believe the idiot who started screaming “zombies” as the gymnasium turned into a game of life-or-death.
A group of us got out. We’re in one of the rooms designated as a teacher’s lounge. Not the largest one, but Stockbridge isn’t a small school. It’s just us, unless you count the “zombies” outside the door that want to do to us what they did to our gym teacher. Between the school being on lockdown, the reinforced glass windows, and us having absolutely no cell service or food, I’m on the verge of having a panic attack. But, yeah, I’ve gotta keep that shit on lock. I can’t show weakness in a time like this.
But how the heck am I or anybody supposed to escape this death trap?
I guess its that I just know that I need to write something to make sense of it. My therapist calls it written stress management. I’ve admittedly never really taken it seriously, so, I guess that would be the first benefit to everyone losing their fucking minds only a few months out from the end of the school year.
My name is Rosemary Fitzgerald. Everyone calls me Fitz. I’m a senior at Stockbridge Academy, a sort-of charter high school a few hours from Detroit. Not that any of that matters anymore.
Something happened. An outbreak of some kind, or at least that's what the teachers told everyone. They told us that we'd be safe in the auditorium until the situation was clear and our parents could evacuate us. Obviously, that was a lie and well, whatever sickness that was outside decided that it did not want to be outside anymore. All, I remember was sitting in the gym, holed up with the rest of my class and a few others, waiting this out until one of the other students, a freshman I think, caught whatever sickness was going around. Now, I’m not much of an expert of these things but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to get back up when a fourteen-year-old decides they liked the taste of your neck.
I never liked Mr. Roberts, but that should not happen to anybody.
In retrospect, sure, I’m shaking, but I’m starting to believe the idiot who started screaming “zombies” as the gymnasium turned into a game of life-or-death.
A group of us got out. We’re in one of the rooms designated as a teacher’s lounge. Not the largest one, but Stockbridge isn’t a small school. It’s just us, unless you count the “zombies” outside the door that want to do to us what they did to our gym teacher. Between the school being on lockdown, the reinforced glass windows, and us having absolutely no cell service or food, I’m on the verge of having a panic attack. But, yeah, I’ve gotta keep that shit on lock. I can’t show weakness in a time like this.
But how the heck am I or anybody supposed to escape this death trap?
What is [ SHELTER ] ?
- Shelter is a small group collaborative story focusing on a group of High School Students from Stockbridge Academy as a zombie outbreak occurs at their school at the tail-end of the Michigan Winter Season in 2019.
- In Part 1, players may create characters who are any composition of trope, class, or determination. A fourteen-year-old freshman is just as fair game as a eighteen-year-old senior. Players are encouraged to figure out how their character interacted pre-outbreak.
- The location of Sunset Valley is a fictional determination, but it is loosely based on the metro suburbs of Detroit such as Dearborn Heights, Farmington Hills, Wyandotte, Woodhaven, and Royal Oak.
- Players are expected to be productive and hold each other accountable in terms of activity. The posting expectations is two weeks to maintain activity, though communication of availability is also paramount. GMs do not play by special rules. They are expected to communicate and be active as well.
- Writing Level should be consider middle-of-the-pack Casual. Flexible, but not too time consuming. A focus on character and substance will be more important in character review than extensive composition and exposition.
- Keep drama to the minimum and keep in line with site policy. No Emmanuelle Arsan novels, please.
- Faceclaims are to be based on real actors rather than anime or artistic renditions.
